Procrastination
by pokeking95
Summary: We've all had those days when we just don't feel like doing anything productive. Not even Spitfire, Captain of the Wonderbolts, is an exception. One day, she decides to take a break and put off her responsibilities for a little while. Nothing more, nothing less.


Spitfire sighed.

The day was a lovely, tranquil one, the idyllic visualization of a lazy afternoon. The shining Sun beamed down from its throne in the heavens above, while the endless sky guarding it was a constant, soothing shade of light blue. The shimmering image of the grand pegasus city of Cloudsdale was faintly visible in the distant horizon, but a few cumulus clouds remained completely indifferent as they lazily floated on by. Atop one of these small, puffy masses rested the lithe pegasus mare, her brilliant golden coat and burning orange mane and tail contrasting sharply with the marshmallow-white surrounding her.

Spitfire snuggled deeply into the blissful embrace of the cloud, sinking herself further as she sighed once more in contentment.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing was light and slow, and a small, happy smile graced her muzzle, the stern demeanor that most ponies knew nowhere to be found. She had even opted to go _au naturel _as she lay there, neither the trademark, form-fitting flight suit of the Wonderbolts nor the stuffy, dark blue uniform she wore at the Academy present. Indeed, it was a rather unusual sight to see the Captain, renowned for her strong discipline and stringency, in such a state, curled into a little ball of golden fur and feathers nestled amongst the fluffiness of the lazy cloud. Practically nopony had seen her appear so… relaxed—she had even let her normally defiantly spiked mane loose, the fiery locks now merely gently framing her face—but there was nopony else there, and that was just how Spitfire liked it—nice and quiet.

She could not help but shiver—partly from the giddiness of knowing that this moment, simple and precious in its own right, was hers and hers alone, and partly from a gentle breeze tickling her, making her squirm and shift in her fluffy bed of condensed water vapor. She could not help but giggle like a little filly as the softness and slight dampness of the cumulus mirthfully caressed her the more she fidgeted. Eventually, she opted to roll onto her back and let out a delighted purr of comfort as the loving smile of the Sun warmed her belly. She slowly opened her large amber eyes, at first squinting against the sudden brightness, but she soon found herself looking straight up at absolutely nothing in particular, the comfortable monotony of the sky somehow mesmerizing.

It was so peaceful, and Spitfire loved every bit of it.

Times like this were all too rare, unfortunately. As one of the most prestigious and respected positions in all of Equestria, being Captain of the Wonderbolts naturally brought forth a great deal of responsibility expected of the position, with little room for personal leisure. From organizing and performing at numerous shows and events for the public, to leading routines and practices for her fellow teammates, to training high and hopeful recruits back at the Academy, it was easy to see why.

At this moment, though, none of that mattered. The day was simply far too perfect to be fretting over such trivialities, and it really was foolish to pass up on a little bit of rest, even for somepony as hard working and diligent as Spitfire. Ponies had often talked behind her back that she was too strict, too unwilling to relax even for the tiniest bit.

Spitfire inwardly scoffed. As if they knew what kind of a stressful life she lived.

But a part of her did agree with them, and that part had spoken the loudest earlier that morning as she found herself—for once—lacking the drive to finish up her report. A little bit of frustrated venting and self-given permission to take a break, and there she was after a short flight, splayed out on a cloud belly up, not caring about anything else in the world.

Finishing her report? That could wait.

Practicing her stunts? That could wait.

Yelling at the cadets? That could also wait.

Going through stacks of paperwork? That could definitely wait.

Spitfire sighed yet again. It was all so, so nice. The plush softness of the cloud pressing against her body… the kindly warmth of the sunlight enveloping her incalescent being… the dainty touch of the wind ruffling her fur and feathers... and the knowledge that nothing else mattered right now in the world… All of it coalesced together to form the most wonderful feeling building up inside of her core, and Spitfire could not resist what came next.

She yawned.

It was a quiet but impressive one, the culmination of countless hours spent overworking her mind and body and night after sleepless night of tireless and thankless work fueled by the black magic of caffeine. At long last feeling the welcome presence of sleep sneaking up on her conscious mind, Spitfire moaned gratefully as she stood up and stretched her limbs out as far as she could, one by one, hearing the satisfying pops and cracks resounding from her joints. She savored every second of it before flopping down back onto her belly, curling up as she let the cloud smother her once again. Breathing peacefully, she smacked her lips a few times as she felt her eyelids droop, that same contented smile never leaving her muzzle.

A nagging feeling crept up at the back of her mind at the last instant of conscious thought, her voice of reason suddenly asking if sleeping now was wise when she still had much to do, ponies to meet, papers to sign, that report to finish... But it was a fleeting thing, as she was reminded of the tragically evanescent beauty of this instant in time.

Yes… Her duties could most definitely wait; there was no need to worry about them, at least not yet. She had time to work later, but at this moment… well, who knew when a moment like this would come again? All Spitfire could do was to simply relax and let go, unresisting as she resigned herself to a restful slumber.

Responsibility?

…

Nah…

Maybe later…

…

…

…

Zzzzz…

* * *

This is basically how I feel right now regarding writing and my summer classes.

Also, I apologize in advance if I made Spitfire too OOC.

Credit for the cover image goes to: Alamber on deviantART


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